madhatterbri

[madhatterbri]

Thank u for pt6!! I really do appreciate you giving your time for my requests for this series, you’re knocking it out of the park!: D:D:D And I really hope I’m not bugging you hehe!

No thanks needed, babe.

Just reblog.

Thank you. ❤️

[madhatterbri]

Hey so I hate to ask but there's a few things I need help in getting for my son's school year.

I know a lot of people are going through it, and I feel like shit asking for help but with everything that's gone on with us recently I can't get the rest of his list.

I was able to get his Math and ELA book and some of the basics but I am not able to get the other stuff for him.

[madhatterbri]

My apologies. I don't doom scroll on this app as much. Wonderful as always, babe. ❤️

ok just imagine matt or nick with someone that is like tiffany stratton

like this has been on my mind for like forever!

90210

Nick Jackson X (Wrestler) Fem reader

An: I have no idea how this got lost in my inbox, but I'm so glad it did! I think now is the perfect time for this fic, especially since Nick lost his "EVP" status

Summary: Nick thinks Y/n is going to leave him now that he's no longer an EVP.

Word count: 1.5 K Main Masterlist

(Picture made by: Bullet Clubs Bitch)

In January, when Nick and Matt made their return to Japan for Wrestle Dynasty, it was like a blast from the past. They visited all of their favourite shops and restaurants, not much had changed since the last time they were there. Matt suggested that they go watch a Stardom show while they were in Japan. He proposed it as a business meeting to scout out anyone for AEW. Nick agreed; he couldn’t remember the last time they had gone to a wrestling show as fans. By the time the main event rolled around, Nick was growing tired. “I think I’m going to head out. I’m quite tired” he told his older brother. “Come on, this is the last match. I’ve heard good things about their champion. We should stay,” Matt explained.  

Nick felt his breath get caught in his throat at the sight of her. “That’s their champion?” Nick asked in disbelief. He watched in awe as the tall blonde made her entrance. The World of Stardom championship was wrapped snug against her waist as she held the Goddess of Stardom championship above her head. “You’re drooling,” Matt said playfully pocking at his brother. “Who is she?” Nick asked, “That’s Y/n Y/l/n, she’s the best of the best. I knew you would like her. I’m pretty sure she’s from California,” Matt explained.  Nick felt as if he had been shot by one of Cupid’s arrows. The Bucks were on the edge of their seats as they watched the main event. The fans adored her. To Nick, Y/n was perfect in every way. Not only was she absolutely breathtaking, but she was an absolute Goddess in the ring. It made sense why she was one-half of the Goddess of Stardom tag team champions. Her match was nothing like he had seen before; her moves, her presence was something otherworldly. She carried herself with such pride, she knew how good she was, yet didn’t let it get to her head. In the end, Y/n would retain her championship effortlessly in an easy five-star classic match.  

After the show, Nick stayed behind and met Y/n. He explained who he was and felt almost embarrassed when she said “I know who you are”. They instantly hit it off talking for hours about anything and everything. They had so much in common, she was everything and so much more. Nick couldn’t help but get lost in her green doe eyes. The fact that she was a Cali girl was the cherry on top. The next night Nick and Matt would re capture the IWGP tag team championships, giving him an excuse to see y/n more often.  

Not long after that, they began dating. Many didn’t understand their relationship, how someone as high-maintenance as y/n could be with Nick or how he could handle being with someone as high-maintenance as her. Unknown to them, they were the perfect fit. They both loved to shop. Nick loved to spoil y/n. Her teeth were rotten from how spoiled she was. They would go out and spend tens of thousands of dollars on designer handbags and clothing. Luckily for them, they had the same fashion taste and would often share the clothes they bought. Y/n would always encourage Nick to buy Supreme hoodies and Dior tracksuits. Secretly waiting until he would be on the road to wear his clothes. As much as he pretended to hate it, he loved the sight of her in his clothing. It didn’t take y/n long to sign with AEW. Six months after they began dating, she signed with AEW, and Nick had just fallen more in love with her. 

Matt had never seen his brother so in love before. Y/n was younger than Nick by 8 years; he wished he had met y/n earlier. But it was worth the wait. He had finally found his other half. It only took one marriage and 35 years, but he found her. Y/n was his California beach babe, the best dam wrestler in the world, and she was all his. Nick couldn’t wait to marry her. 

When Nick lost his “EVP” status at All In he was devastated. He was convinced Y/n would leave him. It didn’t really hit him until the Dynamite after. He arrived to the arena in a cheep car and didn’t have his own locker room. He had to start thinking about his spending. He couldn’t just hop on a private jet and go to Vegas with his girl.  Spending more money at the Casino, on restaurants and shopping than many would make in a year. Sure, she already had everything when he met her, but she could always have more. She deserved more. He wanted to give her everything she ever wanted, everything she ever needed. He was scared of what would come. He had become so accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle that he forgot what it was like to be normal. He didn’t think he could do it. He was the real spoiled one. 

Once Nick returned to their shared hotel room that night, he couldn’t help but break down. The night had been a disaster, he was humiliated. The Comic Sans was enough to push him off the cliff. He made sure to leave before Y/n, not wanting her to hear his breakdown, but it was like she knew his every thought. From the moment she swiped her keycard through that door, she could feel the sadness radiating off his body. She could hear his faint sobs in the shower, and it broke her heart. She waited for him to be done in the shower to start getting ready for bed herself. When she was done, she noticed Nick had already turned off all the lights. He was in bed, the covers pulled high above his shoulders, his back facing her. She climbed into the bed and wrapped her body around his. 

“Do you know how much I love you, Nicky?” She asked gently. “I love you so much, nothing is going to change that” Nick didn’t believe her. “What am I doing to do? I lost everything” y/n didn’t even recognize the tone in his voice. “You don’t want me, don’t want this, don’t deserve this. Now that I’m no longer an EVP, I have no use to you.” Did he really think she was only with him because he bought her expensive things? “Nick…. do you really think I’m only with you because you were an EVP? Because you buy me expensive things?” Y/n was hurt by his accusations, “I love you, I’m with you because you make me smile, make me laugh. You love me unconditionally for who I am. Not only are you a great lover, but you’re an amazing partner. I love you for you. Do really think that what happened tonight is going to change anything?”  Nick felt like an idiot. “I just want to give you the world,” he told her honestly. “If it’s money you’re afraid of, we are going to be okay. I can provide for myself, I can provide for us. You do realize my spending problems have existed long before I even became a wrestler? I’ve spent my whole life living in Beverly Hills. I have money, my family has money. I can take care of us. I promise everything is going to be okay, Nick” 

Nick felt pathetic. He knew Y/n could provide for herself, but he felt like it was his role to be the one providing for her. He didn't like the thought of spending her money. "But-" Nick tried to protest, but she would have none of it. "I don't want to hear any buts, Nick. We are going to be okay."

If Nick had even the slightest doubt Y/n that Y/n wasn't his soulmate, this would have proved him wrong. Tonight proved to him that no matter what, she would be there for him. When you have everything, money doesn't matter. It's love that you can't buy, and they both felt like they won the lottery.

Thank you @rafesbunniebby for the request!

[madhatterbri]

I fear I am going to be insufferable. Even more than I already am. 😂

[madhatterbri]

((x))

[madhatterbri]

I’m uploading Blood Moon Haven to Wattpad as we speak. 😗😛 It’s currently a WIP but I wanna see if by setting myself a weekly upload schedule (and hopefully with some feedback), I’ll finish it.

I was starting to lose grip on it and it was just dragging.

I guess it doesn’t help that I’m not much of a planner. 🥲

[madhatterbri]

I'm going to say this without starting a shit storm on Tumblr.

My husband and I have donated to people who have lost loved ones to pay for funeral expenses, people who have needed money to pay bills, or bought food for people.

I will be happy to reblog whatever gofundme, Cash App, zelle, and whatever you need with the good faith that you will use the money for good. Notify me and it will be reblogged as soon as I see it. I will be happy to talk to you if you need a judgment free person to vent or cry or whatever to.

What I saw today was not it.

[madhatterbri]

The audacity is wild.

Where do I buy this audacity from? Amazon?

I would like to say something really stupid. But Imma refrain. All I will say is. Some people got a whole lot of fucking nerve.

[madhatterbri]

Tangled Web Part 14

Seth Rollins x OC, featuring: Tama Tonga, Bron Breakker, Roman Reigns, Jey Uso & More

*I'm so excited for y'all to read these next few chapters!! Also, new character unlocked!!

Catch up here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Part 14

The villa clung to the edge of the cliff, its sun-baked walls echoing the whispers of the sea far below. Morning light danced upon the waves, as if trying to kiss the rocks, while Paloma and Seth emerged from the cool embrace of their stone sanctuary.

Their morning ritual for the past week had quickly settled into a comforting rhythm—a stroll through the winding streets of the town, where pastel-hued houses tumbled over one another. The narrow alleys were lined with geraniums spilling from terracotta pots, while sunlight filtered through a tangle of hanging vines. Every corner offered a new delight, a memory waiting to unfold amidst the laughter and chatter of vendors setting up their wares for the day.

“Did you see that old man at the bakery?” Seth asked, grabbing for Paloma’s hand and chuckling as they wandered past the scent of freshly baked bread wafting into the air. “I hope I look that good when I’m eighty.”

“You will, don’t worry.” she smiled, leaning into him as they walked. Bron and Tama lingering somewhere in the distance.

The soft murmur of waves crashing against the rocks beneath anchored Paloma in the present. She brushed her fingers against Seth's, feeling the warmth of his skin channel through the spaces that had once felt so empty. “I’ll hold you to it,” she teased lightly, her voice a playful lilt as they continued their stroll.

“Just wait until I’m old and grumpy,” he replied, casting a sideways glance at her with that boyish grin that always seemed to melt her worries away. “You might not think I’m so charming then.”

Paloma chuckled, but the sound faltered slightly in her throat as a flicker of doubt crept in. She turned her gaze to the cobblestone path ahead, trying to convince herself that this moment would last forever, yet shadows from their reality tugged at the edges of her happiness—echoes of unresolved tensions still simmering beneath the surface.

As they rounded a corner, she spotted a small market bustling with activity. The air was thick with the scent of ripe tomatoes, spices, and fresh olives. Locals exchanged cheerful greetings while haggling over prices, infusing the vibrant atmosphere with life and energy—a stark contrast to the complexities waiting for them back home.

“Seth,” she said suddenly, pulling to a halt as an idea sparked, “I wanna cook for you tonight.”

The prospect of cooking had always ignited a certain enthusiasm within her—a chance to create, to nourish, and to share a piece of herself laid bare in flavors and textures. The thought brought a smile to her lips as she looked up at Seth, whose expression shifted from momentary surprise to intrigue.

“Really? You wanna cook?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as they stepped into the market together. “I didn't take you for the type who’d enjoy slaving over a hot stove.”

Paloma feigned offense, placing a hand on her chest dramatically. “Excuse me? I happen to be an exceptional cook! Just because I haven’t done it in while doesn’t mean I can’t whip up something fabulous.”

Seth chuckled, his laughter warm—an anchor amidst the open air bustle surrounding them. “Fair enough! What do you have in mind?”

"I want to make you something that feels like home" she replied, voice laced with determination as they navigated through the stalls. Fresh vegetables glistened under the morning sun, vibrant colors dancing before her eyes. “Maybe some pasta with a twist? A nice seafood dish?”

“You had me at pasta,” Seth grinned, nodding appreciatively as he picked up an eggplant from a nearby stall. 

Paloma chopped garlic, her hands remembering the rhythm from a lifetime ago. She added it to a hot pan, watched the oil bloom with fragrance, and felt herself relax for the first time in a while.  The tension that had hunted her across continents seemed to recede a fraction, replaced with small, domestic pleasures—the taste of basil plucked fresh from a pot outside, the bead of condensation rolling down her wineglass, the sight of Seth standing in soft linen pants, barefoot and shirtless, hair down, humming off-key as he uncorked a second bottle.

She ladled mussels into a saffron broth, feeling the heat on her cheeks. “Okay, don’t laugh at how this looks. It’s my first attempt outside of helping my mom when I was probably thirteen, but—”

She turned and found Seth watching her with open admiration, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he lowered the corkscrew. “I would never laugh at you. Are you kidding? This is, like, domestic bliss kinda shit.” He set the bottle on the counter, stepped over, and drew her in, careful to avoid burning his bare chest on the pan’s simmering rim. He kissed her on the temple; the sudden gentleness made her laugh and almost cry, both at once.

“You’re distracting me,” she accused, though she let herself mold into the shape of his body, fitting where he gave her space and yielding where he did not.

"Good," Seth replied, tracing a line from her jaw to her collarbone with a single finger. "I've waited a while to have this version of my life. And I really like it.”

They ate on the small terrace just beyond the open doors. The sun had climbed high, stippling the tabletop with shapes that shifted as the wisteria above them moved with the breeze. Seth poured the wine, his thumb brushing warm against her wrist with every refill, and together they built a tiny fortress of shared amusements—a shield against everything that waited to claim them when the meal was done.

When the dishes were cleared and the table emptied, Seth reached for her hand and drew her up from the chair. She expected a sweet, joking gesture, a twirl, perhaps, or some mock-dramatic bow. But instead, he slipped both arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers as if he needed to check something—some hypothesis about the way her skin would feel after sunlight.

For a moment there was only the chorus of the wind and the hush of water, but eventually Seth spoke, his voice soft and clear. “Do you think this is what it’s supposed to feel like?”

Paloma stopped and considered the question. “Supposed to,” she echoed, rolling the words around in her mouth as if trying to taste their meaning. “I don’t know. I think people want things to feel perfect, but then you grow up and realize your version of perfect is basically just whatever feels safest at the time.” She let out a soft laugh, turning in his arms so that she could see the play of light across his cheekbones. “Or whatever hurts the least.”

Seth’s brows knit as he thought about this, the shadow of earlier years playing across his features. “I used to think it was about winning. Making the right choices, landing the big deal, making the most money,” He pulled her a bit closer, the gravity in his eyes pulling at the core of her. “But now I realize it's about the moments between the choices—like this one. Where you actually feel seen, and it isn't about being right or best or anything. Just real.” He paused, searching her face, then added, “Unless you disagree, in which case now’s your time to debate me.”

Paloma grinned, feeling heat flood her cheeks. For all Seth’s bravado, she always sensed that he feared rejection more than loss. That somewhere inside the armor of empire-building and ambition was a scared little boy, afraid of being overlooked by his parents. Much like she always felt. 

She liked being the one to prove him wrong.

“I think you’re right,” she said, letting her hands rest on his chest. “And for the record, I’m starting to like these moments in between.”

She let herself be held, felt the press of his chest and the steadiness of his breath, noticed the way he never quite let go once he touched her. Paloma knew he meant it, and that certainty made her feel simultaneously braver and more endangered than anything in her life before. She wanted the moments to stretch, to soften the hard edges of what came before and what would come next, and so she closed her eyes and pressed her face into his neck, inhaling the trace of salt and sun and Seth.

Their second week in Italy unfolded like an old map, the borders of their life expanding with every new street, every spontaneous detour. Paloma marveled at how quickly Seth adapted to the unhurried rhythm of the place; how he bartered in broken Italian for fruit and cheese (not that he needed to, he just enjoyed the challenge); how he learned to nap every afternoon as though he had been doing it his entire life. She sometimes wondered if this was the same person who, in the beginning, scheduled their courtship like it was an IPO, but the clumsy sweetness of his reinvention only made her fall harder for this version of him.

“My new yacht?”

Early one morning, light clung to the marina like a fresh promise, illuminating the gleaming hull of an 80 foot luxury yacht that stood resolute against the vibrant blue backdrop of the sky. Seth guided Paloma onto the foredeck, his enthusiasm palpable as he gestured toward the steel pilings that framed their oasis. “Welcome aboard your new yacht,” he murmured, as she paused at the rail, her breath hitching at the enormity of the moment.

“Is it too much? I thought it would be a good wedding gift...” he asked with a sly smile. “I even named her after you.”

Paloma stared at the sweep of the bow, at the sun-polished decks and the endless Mediterranean pulsing beneath them. “I… it’s a lot, but I love it.” Her voice sounded thin in the open air, distant even to her own ears. “Thank you.”

For a moment, they stood suspended in a stillness rare in either of their lives. Then she walked to the bow, peeking over the edge breathing in the salt. He followed, arms slipping around her waist from behind, anchoring her in place as the yacht’s engines rumbled awake deep below them, vibrating through the hull.

“You know,” Paloma said, wrapping her hands over his, “My father would have a heart attack if he saw this. He'd be so jealous.”

“I’d pay good money to watch that.” Seth nipped her ear, and Paloma shrugged him off, laughing hard, feeling the last splinters of dread shake loose from her bones.

The water shimmered below, a serene blue canvas reflecting the morning sun, and the salty scent of the sea filled the air. Paloma’s eyes widened, absorbing every detail—the sleek lines of the vessel, the polished teak wood glinting beneath their feet, and the promise of adventures just beyond the horizon. Her heart swelled, caught in a delightful struggle between wonder and disbelief.

They strolled past the sunken seating area, where cushions beckoned like whispers of relaxation and warmth. Paloma could almost imagine them sprawled out together, sun-kissed and carefree, laughing as they sailed into the azure expanse. However, as they approached the seating area, a knot of tension twisted in her stomach. Documents and contracts sat spread out on the large table.

“I guess the honeymoon is over?” she sighed, meeting Seth’s gaze.

Seth’s smile drooped at the corners, a sheepish admission softening his features as he circled the table. “I hope it's never over…” he said, laying his hands atop the stack of papers, “but I need to take a meeting with Damian Priest. He just took over as the operating partner for the Balkan futures project.”

Paloma cocked an eyebrow, all too familiar with the way “a meeting” could metastasize into an all-day inquisition. “I seem to remember you promising me that you'd never mix business with our personal life.” she chided, though her voice was more amused than truly wounded. She slumped into one of the banquette seats, burrowing into the cushions, and eyed the topmost document: RE: PETROLEUM CONSOLIDATION—EASTERN EUROPE STRATEGY.

Seth stood over her, almost apologetic as he leafed open his laptop. “He’s the largest shareholder in what will potentially be our biggest asset,” he said. “He also apparently only conducts business on his time, not ours.”

Paloma scanned the room, searching for Bron or Tama, but the deck was empty save for the gentle sway of the horizon line. Seth glanced over his shoulder, a flicker of apology in his eyes. “Go up to the flybridge, pour yourself something, watch the sea. I’ll be done in an hour, two tops. Then we’ll christen this yacht properly”

She pressed her lips together, trying not to show the disappointment, and kissed the crown of his head. “I’ll try to survive.”

Paloma wandered above deck, leaving the faint hum of Seth’s voice behind her, rising and falling in a pattern she had learned to recognize as half-courtship, half-combat.

The yacht was so large that its topmost level felt more like an isolated park than a part of any ship. She sprawled onto a lounge chair, stretching out her limbs and letting the sun do its work, marinating her skin in warmth and Sea Spray. For a while she watched the horizon morosely, but soon the monotony of blue and white soothed her, and she drifted. A gentle rocking, a sudden cacophony as cormorants lined up along a rail, a pod of dolphins surfacing in the distance—each drew her up from the heaviness of self and into the possibility of just being.

Eventually, a shadow fell across her face, and she flinched, expecting one of the crew, only to find Tama. He looked out of place in sunglasses, shorts and a pressed linen shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled so tight the muscle in his forearms seemed to vibrate with potential energy. But the ease with which he claimed the spot next to her made it seem as if this were a role he was born into.

“Tough life,” he said, deadpan, surveying the endless blue.

She waited for the rest: the joke. The years had taught her that some things, with Tama, never changed.

He took off his glasses and, for a moment, just sat in the silence with her. It was more intimate than anything that had passed between them since the drive to her father's house. The waves below them prowled in and out, hiding the shore, each surge like a secret. Paloma settled deeper into the cushions, realizing how rarely she and Tama allowed silence its due.

“I haven’t seen you relaxed in…” she started, but her breath caught and the rest fluttered off with the breeze.

Tama grinned shyly, squinting into the sun. “I don’t think it counts unless you actually stop thinking for more than five seconds.” There was a challenge in his tone, something in the subtle twitch of his brow as he scanned her face.

“Could be worse… you could be in New York with my father.” She shifted in the lounge, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, letting the fullness of the sun find the barest places on her skin. With her chin perched on the smooth plateau just above her kneecaps, Paloma realized how childlike she must look—how exposed, bones and flesh and not a stitch of the armor she’d used to keep Tama at a companionable distance for years. Yet with him, this artificial looseness was unnecessary; the old rules of decorum had always bent in his presence, and today they seemed to have been left altogether on the shore.

“Lean back, relax, get some sun with me,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. The invitation wasn’t a dare or a provocation, not really. It was simply the truth: she needed a witness for this moment, a co-conspirator to share in the extravagance of doing nothing at all. She glanced up at Tama as he hesitated, the rigid set of his shoulders at odds with the playful way he kicked off his shoes and dropped his sunglasses onto the side table. For all his bravado, he was almost shy, like a schoolboy afraid of breaking some unspoken rule.

He did not immediately recline. Instead, hovered at the edge of the lounge chair, arms crossed, as if the memory of their last unguarded conversation, in another hemisphere—had returned unbidden. His gaze traveled from her face to the turquoise shimmer of water beyond, then back. “Are you sure?” he asked, but his grin gave the question away as rhetorical.

She patted the cushion. “Do it.” she teased.

With a low laugh, he finally relented. He settled heavily beside her, stretching out his long legs, then letting his head fall back as if he might nap in the open sun. For a while, neither of them spoke. Their silence wasn’t awkward, but rather an acknowledgment of all that had gone unsaid in the preceding months. Paloma watched the way the heat played tricks on the horizon, how the blue seemed to melt into white, until Tama’s voice roused her from her reverie.

“Something tells me Seth wouldn’t like this too much.”

She turned on her side to look at him, surprised by the hint of caution in his tone. “Don't worry about him, he has a meeting,” she said, her lips quirking into a lopsided smile, “he’s preoccupied with someone named Damian Priest.” She paused, watching the words ripple between them. She could feel the tilt in the air, the shift from banter to something flintier, as if Tama was running calculations behind his eyes. She wanted to keep it light, but knew he would never let her off so easily.

“Big business?��� Tama asked, squinting as he angled his body toward her, the sunlight carving stark lines across his face.

Paloma nodded, unable to suppress a smirk. “Nothing says romance like Balkan petroleum consolidation.”

Tama chuckled softly, shaking his head as he stretched even further across the lounge chair. “Sometimes I think you’re too good at this whole thing,” he teased, watching her face light up under the sun. “Caring but not caring.”

Paloma rolled her eyes playfully, feeling warmth flood her cheeks at the compliment. “It’s a lot to navigate,” she countered lightly, resting on one elbow, allowing herself to revel in the ease of their banter.

He tilted his head back, looking at her with a half-smile that danced on the edge of nostalgia and something deeper. “You were always better at knowing how to work people than I was,” he said softly, his tone shifting slightly as though he was peering beyond the surface.

She felt that slide into seriousness like a shift in the tide, a deep ripple that threatened to pull them beneath. “But this is different now,” she admitted, her voice quieting just slightly. “Things have changed between us… and around us.”

“What about us?” Tama asked suddenly, his voice low but clear as he shifted again to face her, concern etched into his features. “Are we supposed to act like everything's fine when it’s not?”

Paloma felt a wave of warmth wash over her at his words, but the reminder of their unresolved history stung nonetheless. “I’m not trying to ignore it,” she said, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “But we both know this isn’t easy. I can’t keep revisiting old wounds every time we’re alone together.”

Tama's expression darkened slightly as he leaned closer, the intensity in his gaze sharpening. “I don’t wanna rehash old wounds, baby,” he replied, voice low and steady. “We’re both carrying a lot—things that are unspoken but still weigh heavily on us.”

Her heart raced as she felt the weight of the moment settle over them. The sun continued to spill its warmth, casting a golden glow over their shared history, yet here they were grappling with the present like it was a tempest threatening to pull them under. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you want?” he asked quietly, sincerity lacing his tone. “Because I’m sitting here, hoping you’ll give me an answer that makes sense of all this.” He gestured between them, his hands slicing through the air as if trying to physically bridge the emotional chasm that had formed since their childhood.

She hesitated, feeling the strands of their history pulling at her—the laughter shared over childhood dreams, the heartaches etched into the fabric of her being. “Happiness,” she said finally, her voice steady as she met his gaze. “Love. For both of us.”

Tama ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his expression caught between tenderness and uncertainty. Before he could answer a small black speedboat pulled alongside the yacht.

The roar of the engine cut through the tranquility, drawing both Paloma and Tama’s attention. As it approached, a figure emerged—tall, commanding presence cloaked in an air that demanded respect even before he stepped aboard.

As they watched from above, a tall man dressed in crisp navy tailored shorts and a white linen shirt open enough at his collar that golden chains sparkled beneath it. The man moved with confidence—the kind born of power and influence.

“Damian Priest,” the man introduced himself smoothly to Seth as he docked with practiced ease. His slick black hair caught the sunlight while his shirt did nothing to hide muscular contours—a blend of power wrapped in polished sophistication that made him instantly intimidating yet somehow captivating.

Seth emerged just at this moment from below deck; his shirt now donned for business rather than leisure—a crisp white fabric accentuating every sharp feature—and greeted Damian with what seemed like genuine warmth despite their professional ties looming over them like dark clouds pregnant with unspoken tension.

“Glad you could make it,” Seth said easily, masking any vestige of nerves beneath layers of charm. He extended a hand toward Damian who clasped it firmly but without fanfare—the exchange felt more about validation than camaraderie.

“So do I call you Mr. Rollins or will we keep things casual?” Damian smirked slightly—his gaze darting between Seth and the stack of papers.

“I prefer Seth.”

“Well then.” The half-smile broadened into something predatory as if understanding exactly how much was at stake—alluding to the potency of their shared ambitions, the weight of promise and power thrumming just beneath the surface. “Now let’s get down to business.” He stepped further aboard, glancing out at the ocean before turning back to the table.

Paloma felt a shiver run down her spine, sensing the shift in energy as Damian settled into their fold—like a dark cloud had moved across their sun. She exchanged a glance with Tama, who had stiffened beside her, his brows knitting slightly in cautious observation; an unspoken understanding flared between them—danger lurking just beneath the facade of friendly business. “Something doesn’t feel right.” Tama mumbled as she stepped away from the railing

“Shall we talk about our objectives?” Seth’s voice rang out below, smooth and confident, but there was a slight tension in his posture, as though he were bracing himself for whatever storm Damian might conjure.

“Yes,” Damian replied, a glimmer of something predatory flashing in his eyes as he pointed toward the table spread with papers—a treasure trove spilling secrets about pipelines and negotiations that could shift fortunes. “I want to know what you have planned and where I fit into it.”

Two hours into the meeting Seth refilled Damian’s drink, who took a long swig of the wine, “I must say, I’m impressed with your setup here.” His eyes flickered over the yacht, taking in the luxury that surrounded them before landing on Paloma who had wandered down to the lower deck. “And who is this beautiful lady?”

Seth’s easy demeanor faltered for a moment as he turned to find Paloma standing there, and she felt the weight of every unspoken word pass between them.

“Paloma,” she introduced herself smoothly, forcing a smile as she extended her hand. 

Seth smiled, “This is my wife, Paloma. Paloma, this is Damian Priest.”

“Pleasure,” Damian replied, his eyes gleaming as he kissed her knuckles warmly but with a hint of something more—a curiosity, an assessment that sent a flurry of unease spiraling through her. He held her gaze just longer than necessary, as if searching for something that remained obscured only by Seth's presence.

Paloma felt the air tauten around them like a tightly drawn bowstring, the tension electric as Damian’s gaze lingered on her, a mix of appraisal and something more sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. She could sense Seth stiffening at her side, an instinctive protective response that only intensified the unspoken dynamics swirling in the air.

“Let’s get back to work,” Seth said abruptly, taking his seat again, breaking the electric tension in the air, and Paloma could hear the slightest edge creep into his tone—the underlying need to regain control against whatever currents were threatening to surface.

Paloma stood next to Seth’s seat, her hand resting on the back of his neck, thumb slowly stroking the base of it in a soothing manner.

“Damian and I were just discussing strategy,” he said, leaning his head in slightly closer, as if to shield Paloma from the depths of Damian’s attention.

“Right,” Damian said, his tone deceptively casual as he leaned back against the railing. “But I’d love to know more about your wife’s role in all this,” he continued, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ve always found it fascinating how powerful partnerships operate—especially when there’s passion involved.”

Paloma felt an unwelcome heat rise to her cheeks, a prickling sensation of discomfort threading through her as she stood there, sandwiched between the interests of two men who seemed to inhabit entirely different worlds. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied carefully, maintaining her composure despite the stirrings of anxiety clawing at her gut.

“Oh come on,” Damian prodded playfully, crossing his arms over his chest as he leveled his gaze at her. “You’re clearly more than just a pretty face here; I’ve heard your name thrown around a lot lately.” The words dripped with a charm that felt unsettling in its intensity.

Seth felt the tension in the air thicken as Damian’s eyes bore into Paloma, his smirk lingering with an edge that sent a ripple of protectiveness surging through him. He turned slightly to face Damian, positioning himself as a buffer between his wife and this unexpected scrutiny.

“You're right, she is far more than just a pretty face; she’s my wife and an incredible asset,” Seth said, his tone sharp yet laced with pride, hoping to shield her from whatever game Damian was playing. “But this isn’t about her. We’re here to discuss the project.”

Damian chuckled lightly, unfazed by Seth’s protective stance. “Of course, of course! But you must admit that partnerships influence outcomes—especially at this level.” His gaze flickered back to Paloma, a glimmer of something predatory dancing beneath the surface. “So how do you feel about your husband’s ventures? Is he as ambitious as they say?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with implications that made Paloma instinctively tighten her grip on the back of Seth’s neck—an anchor in uncharted waters. She looked at Seth, seeking reassurance in his eyes; she knew how fragile their new beginnings felt amidst the chaos swirling around them.

“I believe in what Seth is trying to achieve. He is a very powerful and capable man, much like yourself, I’m sure.”

Seth shifted uncomfortably beside her, and Paloma could feel his presence radiating a protective warmth that fueled her resolve. She thought of their late-night conversations, where they had both expressed desires for equality and partnership—a shared vision she wasn’t willing to sacrifice now.

Paloma drew in a slow breath, willing the flush in her cheeks to fade, and gave Damian a polite, brittle smile that she hoped would communicate both boundary and civility. “If you’ll both excuse me, I actually came down here for a bottle of wine,” she said, her tone light and effortless as she executed the small social maneuver with the expertise of a seasoned diplomat. Before either man could respond, she leaned in closer to Seth, and in a gesture that was as much for herself as it was for their audience, pressed a gentle kiss to the angle of his jaw—a silent reassurance, a marking of her place beside him, a promise that she trusted him to handle the next few moments on his own.

For a split second, she caught the glint of something hard and unreadable in Damian’s gaze—admiration, perhaps, or annoyance, or the cold calculation of a man who was never surprised—but it vanished as quickly as it surfaced. Seth tensed under her touch, then relaxed, the muscle in his jaw unclenching. The tableau held for a fragile instant, the three of them suspended in a dynamic that was rapidly shifting from professional to something far more uncertain.

Paloma let her hand trail from Seth’s shoulder as she slipped away, taking deliberate, measured steps toward the galley. Behind her, she could hear the conversation resume—two male voices, brittle and sharp-edged, each vying for control in a dance as old as the seas themselves. She didn’t need to look back to know that both were watching her as she moved, that she was a variable in a calculus she hadn’t yet solved.

She leaned against the smooth marble counter, allowing herself a moment to steady her breathing and push aside the sense of being subtly outmaneuvered. The cool air of the galley was a relief, the hum of the boat and the distant cry of gulls oddly grounding. She reached for the wine, deliberately choosing the older, more expensive bottle—a small act of rebellion, or maybe just a craving for something rich and red to settle her nerves. Her hands shook the tiniest bit as she retrieved the corkscrew, but she steadied them, refusing to let the tremor take hold.

It was only as she began to unscrew the cork that she realized Tama had followed her, silent and soft-footed as a shadow. He hovered just at the edge of the galley, not quite entering, but close enough for her to feel the pressure of his presence.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a tension in his posture that suggested he was wrestling with words he couldn’t quite find. “You good?” he asked, voice low and steady—a quiet inquiry that cut through the fray of her thoughts.

Paloma glanced up, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Just trying to manage the chaos,” she replied, forcing a lightness into her tone that felt somewhat disingenuous. She turned her attention back to the stubborn cork in the bottle, making small talk as she wrestled with it. “Seth has a lot on his plate.”

“Too much if he thinks he can do it all alone,” Tama said, stepping further into the confined space, casting a glance toward the bottles lining the shelves as if they offered some answer. “You don’t have to shoulder everything for him.”

She paused mid-twist of the corkscrew, hating how swiftly his words struck a chord within her. “I’m not trying to—” She inhaled sharply. “I want to support my husband!” The slight edge in her voice surprised even herself as she navigated the line between ambition and concern.

Tama softened slightly, his expression shifting beneath layers of concern and camaraderie. “I get it; you’re playing your role.”

“I don’t think I’m playing anymore. This is my role.”

To be continued...

@madhatterbri @charmed1990 @eringobragh420 @femdisa @fearlesschimera @purplementalitybluebird @fafomama @jstarr86 @ctinadiva @isabella-2025 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @ilovericexx @raya-hunter01 @crxssjae @iguessilikewrestlingnow @visionarymode @bebesobrielo @wrestlingprincess80 @empressdede @brie-mode-activated @msbigredmachine @mzv11 @thetribalqueen @headoftheetable @sayyestoheav3nn @nicolewoo @jaded-human @cutttteeee @trippinsorrows @trentybenty @surdelcielo @electronicwitchsandwich @bloodlinesbabe93 @abadbitchblogs @yana3sworld @mindairy @jackson-nickthedate @eatlifthockey @leighla3 @mselenalovebug @transparentphantomface @pittieprincess22 @xbriexx

[madhatterbri]

Hi. You can stop now.

I haven’t even left yet.

And that was…nice. So thanks. You’re done.

This you?

[madhatterbri]

Too Late | D.P.

Summary: What if the reader is a witch and she dated Drew, werewolf, who broke off their relationship after he found his true mate and over time he said that his true mate wasn't faithful to him so when he went to go back after the reader he comes to find her with Damien, vampire, who reveals that in a no small way that she is his mate and he's going to treat her like she supposed to be?

Requested by: @mrssquatch23

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @missbmc94 @surdelcielo @hodgepodge-musings @rise-against-the-machine

Drew clenched his steering wheel and sighed. He never expected to be back in this little neighborhood in New Orleans. After he left you broken hearted, he was with a woman that he felt was his true mate. The beginning was great. Months passed, and the relationship started to sour. One stormy night, he came home to discover that his "true mate" was lost in someone else's arms.

He knew he had no claim to you anymore. The whole idea of pulling up to your house unannounced was next level audacity. Drew hadn't bothered to let you know that he was coming over. The phone calls and texts would have probably gone unanswered.

Your ex-boyfriend drove down your block and pulled into the driveway. He stepped out and looked around the area. The little neighborhood that he once criticized as too quiet now felt just like home. It soothed him like soup to a sick person.

He walked on the steps that led to your porch. A faint smell of lavender came through the open windows. The same scent that would once welcome him home when he came home to you. His heart ached. He missed those days.

Drew took one last breath. The plan was a simple one: walk up to the door, knock, apologize, and have you back in his arms by dinner. The girl he left you for was long gone now. There was no reason for you not to take him back.

"Well, here goes nothing," he mumbled to himself. The werewolf balled his fist and knocked on your door.

When the door opened, his eyes widened in surprise. He expected her to be angry and hex him. Drew never thought a vampire would answer the door, let alone this particular one.

"Can I help you?" The deep voice of Damian Priest asked. He leaned against the door frame with his hands in his black pants. The vampire seemed bored and wanted nothing more than for Drew to disappear.

"I would like to see the owner of this house. Are they home?" Drew asked. "I made a mistake, and I want them back."

"She's moved on, mutt," Damian answered. "Don't you have a mate? What happened?"

The smile tugging at the corner of Damian's lips told Drew that he must have found out what had happened.

The man on the porch felt his jaw clenched. His anger started to bubble inside. All he wanted to do was tear this blood sucker apart.

"They are a witch. They don't have a mate."

"Our souls are bounded. Look, man, just make it work with your mate and leave us alone."

"I want to hear them say that."

"Damian? Who is at the door?" You asked from behind him and stopped. Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to see Drew McIntyre back in New Orleans. Never mind your doorstep. "Oh, what are you doing here?"

Drew could see you were no longer excited to see him. His hope for a reconciliation started to dim. At least you were here now. He could remind you that he was a good mate to you. All the good times you had together with him.

"I made a mistake," he admitted. "I thought she was my mate. I had it in my head that my mate was out there somewhere, but it was you all along. You loved me, and I threw it all away. I want a second chance. We can go as slow as you'd like."

"Loved," you repeated his word. "I did love you even when you threw me away for someone you barely knew."

Drew felt the weight of your words on his shoulders. There was little hope that he would win you back. The witch he left behind was now more confident in themselves. Something told him that this was Damian's doing.

The vampire wrapped an arm around you and held you close. His thumb rubbed you in a comforting way. When you were with Drew, it was to show that you were his. Now it was for Damian to show you that he was there.

"She doesn't need to beg for scraps anymore," Damian interrupted. "She gets treated like she should now."

Drew clenched his fists. "This is only temporary. A parasite could never make her happy."

Damian smiled. His fangs showed to Drew to show he wasn't backing down. "She is very happy."

[madhatterbri]

Her | Bo Dallas / Uncle Howdy Part 6

Summary: Her part6: reader finds out that Roxy is officially part of the TJD (leaving her out of the vote)& Raquel’s new tag partner. She questions why she wasn’t considered but Raquel brings up Uncle Howdy’s gifts. Reader says there’s nothing going on but thinks the Wyatts & Uncle Howdy aren’t all that bad. Finn intervenes & tries to convince reader she is being manipulated by Uncle Howdy. Reader leaves in frustration. Finn sees that the Wyatts are going to be a problem & decides it’s time TJD take care of them.

Requested by: Anonymous

Author's Note: You sent this in like within three hours after I changed that Wendy's is open. 😂❤️ It made me feel so good, and I can't thank you enough for that. I hope you enjoy it.

Bo Dallas / Uncle Howdy Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @kcloveswrestling @theworldofotps @magicalbuttertarts @surdelcielo @hodgepodge-musings @rise-against-the-machine @smallestsnarkestgirl

You walked inside the Judgment Day lockerroom thinking about Uncle Howdy. All the gifts were from him. The sweet words of encouragement. You didn't know what you did to deserve it, but you were grateful. In the wrestling business, it was so important to have someone in your corner.

"Hey, JD, want me to beat you in 2K?" You asked and stopped abruptly. There was a female wrestler in the room, and it wasn't Raquel and certainly wasn't Liv. This one you knew didn't belong in the Judgment Day lockerroom. Who allowed her in?

"Are you lost?" You asked rudely and walked towards her. A scowl pressed on your face. The circumstances had placed you in a bad mood.

Roxanne Perez smiled sweetly at you. The young wrestler acted like she knew something you didn't. She had a mean girl vibe that you half hoped someone on the main roster would wipe away. A quick talk with General Manager Adam Pearce and the attitude adjustment that Roxanne was long overdue could be scheduled.

"I could ask the same to you. Are you lost? This is the Judgment Day lockerroom. I think you are looking for the circus for the freak show."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean," she answered and adjusted the championship belt around her waist. Her brown eyes stared at you the entire time. She smirked at you. You looked down and saw the belt. Your nostrils flared.

"That doesn't belong to you, and you don't belong here. Liv is going to come back and want her title back."

Roxanne shrugged. "I am just defending it for her with Raquel. A shoulder injury is a pretty serious injury. I thought since you are a member of this faction you would want what's best for it."

"Ladies, ladies," Raquel interrupted. She placed her arms between the two of you and pushed outwards to separate the both of you. "Let's just take a couple of steps back and breathe."

"Why is she here?" You demanded. "I didn't vote for this. We all have a say in here."

Raquel pursed her lips and forced a smile. She was hoping she wouldn't be the one to tell you. "You have been busy with, you know, them."

"Who?"

Raquel rubbed her cheeks and sighed. She whispered something to herself in Spanish before paying attention to you. "Are you a part of Judgment Day? I get you are a member, but you seem to be preoccupied with the Wyatt Sicks. Uncle Howdy doesn't give gifts to anyone. We just weren't sure where your head is at or who you are really with."

"There is nothing going on with them. They are just misunderstood," you defended.

"Chica, we are just..."

Raquel shot a look at someone standing behind you. Finn had just walked in followed by JD.

"Concerned that you are being manipulated by Uncle Howdy," Finn answered bluntly.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but nothing came out. No one was manipulating you. Uncle Howdy and the others in Wyatt Sicks were just helping you. They hadn't done any harm to you or anyone in Judgment Day.

"I'm not being manipulated by anyone. Why am I on trial here? I was the one left out of the vote, and I deserved one."

"Dom, JD, Raquel, and I voted her in. Your vote wouldn't have changed a thing."

"So we can just allow anyone we want in here? I thought this was exclusive like -"

"The Wyatt Sicks?" Finn asked.

"I wasn't going to say them. You put those words in my mouth. This isn't right what you guys did."

"We did what was best for Judgment Day. You used to want that before Uncle Howdy and them bought you with gifts and nonsense and manipulated you."

"I'm not being manipulated!" You insisted while raising your voice.

The room fell quiet as the five wrestlers stared at you. Normally, you never raised your voice. Tears pricked your eyes as you sighed in frustration. Without saying another word, you grabbed your suitcase and stormed out.

Once you left, Finn was the first to speak.

"I don't like this. I don't like this one bit. Do you guys hear me?" The Irish man asked. He raised his hand and pointed towards the wall. "That is going to be a problem and we need to stop it?"

"Her? She just needs to calm down," Raquel shrugged. "She will tire herself out."

"No, not her. The Wyatt Sicks are going to be a problem. They have the entire roster at Smackdown at their mercy. We need to show them that the Judgment Day on RAW won't roll over and die."

"And how do we do that? They are virtually unstoppable," Dom spoke.

Finn smiled. "I think we all know someone that could make the Wyatt Sicks fall to their knees. I'll talk to her and try to soothe things over. You guys worry about keeping your championship belts."

[madhatterbri]

Chapter six of Yours 4 is now live

Tag List: @eringobragh420 @magicalbuttertarts @madhatterbri @keekee-23 @loki69zowens @caramara3 @bloodlinesbabe93 @miss-kuki-nz @surdelcielo @elaineoneill570 @hotwheels1108 @violetpenguinkris @southerngothicpunk @silassstingy @beccalynns-world @twistedprincess-92 @80sprincess1 @hardcoredisneynerd @brideofinfamy @mzv11 @bangchansmami @mamis-girly @ayeeitsali @jazzyboo123-blog1 @weirdgirl16355 @spicedplumpkin @damianpriestfangirl82 @tommyflanaganfan-blog @purplementalitybluebird @usosreign @cassrox @lilredniki @fafomama @wrestlersownmyheart @wrestlingprincess80 @queenslayer1985

[madhatterbri]

They are beautiful.

Thanks for the tag, babe. ❤️

I love my mcmg

[madhatterbri]

Guys I hate to ask but I wouldn't if I didn't need to.

Been in hospital today (I'm okay) and last week we had a power cut so I've missed a couple days of work

If anyone could spare anything I'd be extremely grateful were running low on food and I'm gonna need 3 meals a day to take my painkillers

I get paid next Friday and mamma gets paid next Monday.

Anything would help

Thanks guys x

[madhatterbri]

One On One | C.H. Part 2

Summary: Can you make Carmelo Hayes takes on you on a date since he owe you because he lost in basketball game against you. After he takes you sunset when you guys kiss on the first date.

PS your story are amazing ❤️❤️

Requested by @stephwrestler

Author's Note: Thanks for the sweet words, babe. ❤️

Carmelo Hayes Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @magicalbuttertarts @rise-against-the-machine @hodgepodge-musings @bloodlinesbabe93

Your friends were buzzing when you told them the news about your date with Carmelo. The questions poured in asking how this was possible. You told them every detail about the basketball game. They had heard you pine for him for an embarrassingly long time.

The week of your date was filled with trips to the mall. The look had to be perfect. Your friends assured you that there would be more dates after this, but you weren't so sure. Everything had to be perfect.

That night, you dressed in one of your purchases you picked up from the mall. Cute shoes covered your feet. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror before your date arrived. He wore a simple short sleeve button down with pants and loafers.

You took a quick look over not wanting to get caught. "You clean up nice, Hayes."

Hayes licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. "Come on, girl. I dress more than nice."

You closed your door behind you and smiled. The date was now officially started.

Carmelo was a perfect gentleman. He held open the front passenger door for you. Within moments, he was buckled into the driver seat. Your favorite tunes on the radio as you two talked. When he stopped at a red light, you noticed he was looking at you.

"What?" You asked and looked down. Worry filled you as you thought you ruined your new clothes. All the hours spent at the stores to find the perfect outfit for today.

"Nothing, you just going to look really fancy at the Waffle House is all," he teased. You rolled your eyes yet laughed. He watched you laugh and smiled.

At the next red light, he noticed your arm resting on the middle console. He placed his arm against yours. His fingers barely brushed into yours. Your cheeks burned as you stared out the window. No other action was taken. He didn't pull away, and you didn't want him to.

Carmelo pulled up to a local beach spot. He pulled into a parking space and paid for the parking fee. He jogged around the car and opened the door for you. You thanked him and smiled at the scene.

Different restaurants and shops were on a pier. Kids were running around the pier with tickets in their hands from the carnival games. Wooden stairs led down to the beach for those that needed to cool off.

"Carnival games? You want me to beat you again?" You questioned.

He rolled his eyes. "I let you win. My mama raised a gentleman."

Carmelo led you around to the different restaurants until you decided to eat at one that had the perfect view of the ocean water. All fear of this being awkward washed away when he cracked jokes with you. He made you laugh all throughout dinner. The waitress picked up the menus after he ordered dessert and walked away. Your date laid his hand palm up on the table. Remembering the situation in the car, you placed your fingers by his. He felt braver then and held your hand. Your thumbs rubbed against the other's hand. You were on cloud nine.

After dessert, Carmelo paid and led you to the end of the pier. He hadn't let go of your hand since the restaurant. It was a quiet little spot that was perfect for couples who just wanted some alone time. The sun started to set on the horizon.

"You know I let you win, right?" He asked.

You couldn't hide your smile as you looked down. "Sure, Melo, whatever you say."

You both stared at the sunset. It was a nice change from the chaos of the real world. Work and traveling and other stressful demands that life tossed at you. Now, it was the two of you staring at a sunset. The skies different shades of pink and orange. His arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him.

"I didn't expect Mister I am HIM to be quite the romantic," you confessed. "Today was perfect."

"I guess I'm just full of surprises."

A silence washed over the two of you. It wasn't uneasy but a calming silence. One with the two of just appreciating being around the other. As the sun dipped lower, Carmelo turned to you.

"I... would you? I mean, if you don't want to, we don't have to. No pressure here, just."

You leaned in halfway before he realized this was really happening. He leaned down and kissed you. This no longer felt like a date from you winning a basketball game. This felt real. Like there would be more dates after this one. Your heart fluttered at the thought. He was the first to pull away.

"Looks like I'm the winner after all," he smiled.

You smiled back. "I think we both won."

[madhatterbri]

Zero chill 😭😭😭